Day One - Catastrophe at Abu Dhabi

Utter catastrophe! However, I digress and so shall start at the beginning. The hotel was nice, though sleep was hard to come by. We were in bed for a rather pedestrian 10.30pm (though in my defence we were getting up at 5!), but sleep came in fits and spurts. Excitement, strange surroundings and unbearable heat all played a part, but the alarms went off and we begrudgingly dragged ourselves out of bed, packed, and went down for breakfast. It was a good breakfast; the works, and no sooner had I finished it, our pre-booked taxi arrived! Our timings were continuing to be excellent!
We checked in all nice and smooth - I got chatted up by the attendant booking us in and weighing our luggage (but alas, it was a he) - and I got felt up going through security (another he). We then spent the next couple of hours before our flight enjoying the sunrise with a Starbucks, before boarding and living a flight of luxury.
The plane was amazing! Full in-flight entertainment system, including latest movies (Fury - Brad Pitt), 16-bitesque games, and a GPS monitoring system. The food and drink was good, plentiful and free, and I'd thoroughly recommend travelling with Etihad to anyone.

At this point I notice my clothes developing an odour - and like a dummy - whilst I packed spare underwear in my carry on, didn't heed the advice of Yo to pack spare clothes. Nothing I could do now but give shifty eyes to people next to me and hope to pass on the blame...

We landed on time at Abu Dhabi after a roughly 5 hour flight, and breathed in the muggy warm air of the Middle East. Quite a change from the chill Mancunian -2°c, and welcome! The holiday had begun!

...Or had it? Remember the catastrophe comment at the beginning? it was about to slam us like a sledgehammer, big style.

We bought deodorant, and i tried to clean myself up the best I could in a foreign and famously prudish country. Smelling a little better, we went to the gate, saw the big queue, and decided to hang about next to a phone charging station for a while. What's the worst that could happen? We were already at the gate.
Quite a lot actually. See, when we got to the boarding guy and handed him my papers, it turns out he had my name already written on a piece of paper.
...Written right there, waiting for me. Like an inky, poisonous snake. My heart beat a little faster. liked dry lips, tried to look innocent, gullible and honest.
"Hi Darren" he said, looking down at his written note. "Have you applied for a visa for Australia?"

My eyebrows shoot up. We'd already looked into it as at one stage we were contemplating spending the evening in Melbourne itself rather than the airport, but they were asking for me to send off my passport and we didn't dare risk not getting it back in time.  In the end we settled on staying in the airport and if we could, perhaps trying to sweet take them into giving us a visa for the evening.

... So why was he asking me if I'd applied??

"No." I reply, "we decided we'd spend the night in the airport so didn't bother in the end. It's only twelve hours or so, so didn't seem worth the hassle."

'Yes, it's twelve hours" he said, "are you aware you have to apply for a visa beforehand if you're staying in Australia for longer than 8 hours? Even if it's just in the airport."

Oh fuck.

Yes indeed, they really were denying me to fly cos I was staying in Australia twelve hours rather than eight. Yo was fine, she has a NZ passport, and like the EU they have an agreement of free indefinite stay between the two countries. She could even work if she wanted to.

I couldn't even get on the plane.

He suggests I quickly try an arrange a visa online, you can fill out a form, and there was a chance - just a chance - the visa would come back in the next 40 minutes before the gate closed.

It was a monumental task. Emotions were running high, clouding our thoughts - our several years planned holiday was crashing down around us. We'd booked and paid for hotels, car rentals, planned outings. Neither of us could think straight, and no one was coming to help us, despite me begging, literally begging for a member of staff to help.

"The supervisor has already looked into it. There's nothing we can do. Applying for the visa now online is your only option."

Free airport wife is notoriously flaky, and Abu Dhabi International is no exception. We filled the visa out (took about 20 minutes), sent it, only to get a wife error and lose it all. We tried again, but somehow couldn't find the same visa form as last time, only a transit one - which was perfect - we were transiting!! However after filling most of that out, we got stuck on a drop down form asking for my nationality. Turns out only a handful of countries have this privilege; the US, and a few from Australia.

I call the Embassy in London. Closed. I call the emergency consulate line, but get a voice in Arabic telling me to dial 050 in front of it first. I try again, but the 050 doesn't work. I call the consulate in Australia - same Arabic message. I call the consulate in United Arab Emirates, same message.

We really were out of options, and we'd burned through the 40 minutes and change. The flight people were all waiting for us, alone in the departure gate, their faces a mix of sympathy and 'another one falls for the Australian 8 hour trick. Idiots.'

We asked what would happen next, and was told they'll try and find a suitable flight that either bypasses Australia or has a stopover of less than 8 hours. They were unsure if it would be free or not, as it depended on our tickets and who we bought them through. They'd find that out at the Transit Desk later.

So we hastily made plans. Yo was willing to stay with me, but was clearly apprehensive. Plus we had car rental booked, hotels, they all needed sorting as it could be days before another flight was found.

At 10pm we had an emotional goodbye kiss, lots of tears, and went our separate ways. Yo would go on ahead, pick up the car and check in to the Christchurch apartment. That would leave approx 4 days for me to get a flight before that hotel expired and we were driving to the next one. We never discussed what would happen if I didn't make it before then.

So I turned on the family charm, proved why I somehow get men chatting me up, and did my best to get on their good side. They literally were my only hope, and it seemed to be working. They were all smiles and apologies and sympathetic to the cause. It's all Australia's fault, they say, they're really strict. They give me water, juice, breakfast and evening meal vouchers, and escort me through the bowels of the airport to the Transit Desk where I await my fate.